Of Orcs, Rangers, and Peach Pie
by Silivren Tinu
Summary: A story about three orcs, two rangers, and the motivating qualities of peach pie. Characters: Aragorn, Halbarad, Elladan, Elrohir. Written as a birthday present for Cairistiona.


_**Author's Note**__: This story was written as a birthday fic for Cairistiona7 (who is entirely to blame for the peach pie (g)) and is a bit different from my usual stories. Those of you who like Aragorn angst will hopefully enjoy it nonetheless. ;-) Reviews are, as always, very welcome and will be treasured, cherished, and saved. :)

* * *

_

**Title**: Of Orcs, Rangers, and Peach Pie

**Author**: Silivren Tinu

**Beta**: the wonderful Imbecamiel (((hugs)))

**Rating**: K+

**Summary**: A story about three orcs, two rangers, and the motivating qualities of peach pie. Written as a birthday present for Cairistiona.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any rangers, but I wish I at least had some peach pie. ;-)

* * *

o-o-o-o-o

**- Or Orcs, Rangers, and Peach Pie -**

o-o-o-o-o

"You should not be the one who is injured," Halbarad stated gruffly, keeping his gaze fixed on the tree in the distance he had chosen to be their next destination.

"You always… say that," a weak voice answered.

Halbarad grunted, adjusting the grip he had on the arm around his shoulders in an attempt to take yet more of the weight of the man he was half dragging, half carrying along. He tried not to notice that said weight had become noticably heavier over the last minutes. His shoulders were beginning to ache.

"Yes, I do," he admitted, "and there's a good reason for it, too. Of the both of us, _you_ are the healer and you also happen to be the chieftain. If _I_ get hurt, there's a good chance you will be able to save me. If _you_ get hurt, there's an equally good chance I won't be able to save you."

"You're doing fine so far," the weak voice murmured, sounding slightly slurred.

"And if I'm not able to save you," Halbarad went on, ignoring the comment, "what do you think will become of the Dúnedain? You are the last in the line of kings, whether you like it or not!" Something cold and wet hit his face, and Halbarad looked up at the grey sky above. It was beginning to rain. This day was just getting better all the time.

"I'll be a lonely king if I just stand by and watch… while a friend gets shot," his companion remarked.

"I am sure both Arwen and Middle-earth would prefer to get you lonely and hale, instead of dead and surrounded by friends," Halbarad countered.

"In that case, they will just have to find themselves another husband and king," the weak voice insisted stubbornly.

Halbarad ground his teeth. "I'm not here so you can step between me and an arrow," he snapped. "_I'm_ here to keep _you_ safe!"

There was a moment's silence, then the other man sighed. "I'm sorry," he said.

The anger passed as quickly as it had come. Halbarad shook his head. "I just… I just wish you would stop risking your life like that," he said.

"I do not think I can," his chieftain stated simply.

This time, it was Halbarad who sighed. For a while, neither of them spoke. The ranger had always found it impossible to be angry with his friend and chieftain for long, especially when the reason he was angry with him also happened to be one of the many traits he had come to love and admire him for. Still, he wished the younger man would begin to truly understand and accept how important his life was.

Halbarad would have very much preferred being shot himself to seeing that arrow hit the one who was not only his friend and leader but might also very well be the last hope for all the free peoples of Middle-earth. Fortunately, he had been able to remove the arrowhead from where it had buried itself in Aragorn's side and the arrow seemed to have missed any vital organs, though it had been quite an ordeal for both of them.

The older ranger still felt quite shaken, though he at least had escaped unscathed from their fateful little skirmish with no more than three orcs. Such a small number of orcs would not have been much more than a training session for the two rangers, if only one of the creatures had not been hidden behind some rocks, and if only Halbarad had not turned his back on that orc during the short fight.

The older man's only consolation was that at least the arrow that had hit his chieftain had not been poisoned. Still, it was almost ridiculous that such a comparably small incident would result in such grave consequences. The wound was severe, and the ranger was very well aware that it might yet prove to be life-threatening if they did not find help soon. The cold rain drizzling down on them did not help matters at all.

Halbarad looked at the man at his side. The younger ranger's steps were dragging, and his head was bowed. Halbarad was just about to try to start another conversation to distract them both from the situation they were in, when the younger man slumped against him without any warning. Suddenly forced to carry his friend's entire weight, Halbarad staggered and only barely managed to keep the both of them from falling.

"Aragorn?" he cried, alarmed. Getting no answer, he shook the unresponsive body in his arms slightly, hoping to wake his chieftain without causing too much pain or additional damage. When there was still no reaction, the ranger had to fight down a sudden wave of panic, knowing that they would lose even more time if he had to carry his chieftain instead of just support him – time Aragorn simply did not have. He shook his friend again, a bit more vigorously this time. "Aragorn!"

There was a groan, and then the limp body stirred slightly in his arms. "Aragorn?"

"Must have… drifted off," the younger man mumbled, and Halbarad breathed a sigh of relief.

Aragorn struggled weakly against his grip, trying to get his feet back under him, and the older ranger quickly loosened his tight hold, assisting his chieftain instead. His friend leaned against him heavily for a moment, then he straightened slowly, looking around. "Where are we?" he asked, eyeing their surroundings as if trying hard to make sense of them. "This does not look like Mirkwood."

His worry rising again, Halbarad stared at his chieftain. There was a confused expression in the usually keen grey eyes, and they were unnaturally bright. The ranger's heart sank, and he closed his eyes for a moment. He had feared that a fever might set in before they were able to reach help, but he would not have minded at all being proven wrong.

"We are not in Mirkwood," he answered, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible. Noticing that Aragorn looked even more confused at that, Halbarad quickly added, "We had to flee. There were orcs, and you were wounded too badly to continue fighting."

Aragorn nodded, seemingly content with that explanation. Halbarad wondered for a moment if his chieftain actually recalled the events that had brought them here, or if he was simply lost in memories of a similar experience in Mirkwood, but then decided that it did not really matter. The only thing that mattered right now was to keep going. Aragorn needed a healer and a warm, dry place to rest, and he needed both fast.

"Where is Legolas?" Aragorn wanted to know. "Is he alright?"

"He is fine," Halbarad replied, wishing he had a hand free to wipe the rain out of his face. "He has just gone ahead to get help." Right now, he would have given almost anything for that to be true.

The younger man fell silent again. Halbarad cast a quick glance his way, almost wishing Aragorn would ask another question. As long as they were talking, he knew that his chieftain was still coherent and not about to lose consciousness. The mere fact that Aragorn had accepted without question that Legolas had been willing to leave him in the state he was in told Halbarad more than he really wanted to know about his friend's condition.

Sifting through his mind for a topic suitable for conversation, the ranger quickly found something that would hopefully be able to hold Aragorn's attention for a while longer.

"Peach pie!" he said.

"What?" Aragorn asked, taken aback.

"My wife has been planning to bake a peach pie for you, as soon as we're home. She wanted to surprise you. She has probably already started, since she did not expect you to get yourself shot and be late."

"Halbarad, I'm already feeling… miserable enough. Do you really have to… torment me with visions of peach pie?" Aragorn said, sounding as irritated as someone in his state possibly could.

The older ranger turned his head away to hide a satisfied, relieved smile. His friend sounded much more awake than only moments before. It made him wonder if he should not have mentioned peach pie much earlier. "All I say is you should be aware that you will never get a chance to taste that pie if you don't keep awake and going. I'm also quite sure my wife would be mighty disappointed if she had gone to all that effort for nothing."

He felt Aragorn's eyes bore into him, but refused to look at his chieftain, pretending to be busy blinking the rain out of his eyes and looking for landmarks. "I'll do my best… to keep going, then," Aragorn finally said. His voice sounded gentle rather than angry now, and Halbarad felt quite uncomfortable all of a sudden.

"Good. That's good to know," he answered brusquely, his arm unconsciously tightening even more around the other man's waist. "I'd hate seeing a good peach pie go to waste."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aragorn's lips curve into a smile.

o-o-o-o-o

Halbarad did not know how much time had passed, when his senses alerted him to a subtle change in their surroundings. The ranger brought the both of them to an abrupt halt, staring into the rain and the rising mist before them. He could feel Aragorn tense and try to straighten beside him, readying himself for whatever kind of danger Halbarad might have spotted.

His chieftain had been true to his word, and had somehow managed to keep alert and moving. In spite of his efforts, however, there had been more and more faltering and stumbling over time, and the older ranger could not help noticing how hot Aragorn's skin had become. He was beginning to truly fear for his friend.

Noticing his friend's questioning glance, Halbarad nodded at a point somewhere in front of them in the distance. "Look," he said quietly.

Two grey shadows were moving through the mist far ahead of them, shadows that could not be anything but riders, judging from their form and the speed they were moving at. It was obvious that they were riding directly towards them, and Halbarad had no doubt that they had already been seen. How the riders could have spotted them so quickly he had no idea, though, especially since he himself had only noticed them a moment before, in spite of the fact that he had been keeping his eyes on the horizon all the time.

The riders drew nearer quickly, moving towards them at an ever increasing pace. A horse whinnied. Aragorn moved away from his friend slightly, keeping one hand on the older ranger's shoulder to steady himself. Halbarad waited for a moment to see if his chieftain remained standing, then his fingers closed around the hilt of his sword.

A short time later, the first rider was close enough to call a greeting, and both rangers relaxed at once, hearing a voice that was both familiar and speaking in Sindarin. Halbarad was quite sure that he had never heard anything as beautiful before. The ranger felt a grin spread on his face, a grin that did not even falter when Aragorn started to sway and he had to move quickly to keep his chieftain from falling.

The rider reined in his grey steed in front of them, and pushed the hood of his cloak back to reveal a noble face framed by dark hair. Keen grey eyes scrutinized the two rangers for a moment, just long enough to make Halbarad realize what a miserable sight they must be, wet, muddy, and bloodstained as they were.

"I knew it was a mistake to let the two of you go anywhere on your own," Elladan remarked. The hint of a smile was playing around his lips, but there was also unveiled worry in his eyes. At his side, the other rider had already dismounted and was hurrying towards the ragged pair of rangers. His searching eyes quickly spotted the bloody bandage at Aragorn's waist peeking through his torn clothes. Putting Aragorn's free arm around his shoulders to take part of the wounded man's weight upon himself, Elrohir looked at Halbarad. "Are you alright?" he asked.

The ranger nodded. "Only tired," he said, feeling for the first time just how exhausted he was. He would have been perfectly content to sit down in the mud and stay there for hours. Instead, he leaned against the flank of one of the magnificent horses, which patiently tolerated his presence, and watched as the sons of Elrond examined their younger brother. Aragorn seemed to be only half conscious by now, but at least he seemed able to recognize his brothers.

In a short, hushed conversation the twins decided that they would not be able to do much for their patient here. Without wasting any time, the younger ranger was carefully manoeuvred onto the back of one of the horses, and Elrohir mounted behind him. Elladan then made an inviting gesture towards his own horse, which Halbarad happened to be leaning against, and the ranger did not have to be asked twice. He was more than happy to let the horse carry his weight for a while.

Either the presence of his brothers or being able to sit and lean comfortably against something warm seemed to revive Aragorn for a moment. When Elrohir turned his horse, the younger ranger looked back at Halbarad and smiled weakly. "It seems I will get… that peach pie… after all!" he said.

Halbarad shook his head, unable to keep a smile from his face. "Aye," he said, feeling very content and ignoring the slightly bemused glances the two half-elves were giving them. "So it seems."

- The End -


End file.
